


The Illusion of Control

by whiskeyandnight



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5789083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandnight/pseuds/whiskeyandnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone likes to think they're in control. In truth, no one is. Especially not in a city like Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Illusion of Control

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! To start, I'd like to say that if this chapter sounds familiar, that's because I tried doing this story a while ago, but just wasn't feeling it. I ended up taking it down and have been working on it since. Now, I have a better idea of what I want to happen, so I'm ready to have at least this chapter posted! I hope you enjoy!

Hindsight is 20/20.

As he kneels on sore knees with a purpling, swelling face and every muscle in his body aching in protest of the uncomfortable position he's been forced to keep, Benny hears the old saying – not for the first time – ringing through his battered skull. He tries to ignore it at first, he really does, but eventually the pain in his _everything_ sings too loud and he thinks, maybe looking back on the past is the only way he'll be able to temporarily escape his present. As he sways gently from side to side, body too broken and beaten and deprived to continue holding his defiantly rigid stance in the middle of Caesar's war camp, he bitterly finds himself retreating into his mind and reflecting, yet again, on the cascade of events that has lead to his current unpleasant situation.

Namely, he thinks about where he went wrong.

Benny's particular hindsight revolves around _should have_ s. Things like how he _should have_ worked harder to fly under the legionaries' radar, how he _should have_ taken the time to think the finer details of his 'take over New Vegas' plan through further, how he _should have_ prepared a better way to infiltrate the Fort…

And how he should have never underestimated the abilities of a courier. Not just any courier, _the_ Courier.

That's the real kicker, for him. The Courier is a relatively small girl, still shedding off the last bits of baby-fat in her face, and not at _all_ threatening. So Benny can't say he wasn't at least a _little bit_ surprised when, after he put a bullet in her head, not only did she get right back up, but she then proceeded to track him down like a bloodhound across the Mojave. And _then_ she managed to waltz into the Strip, the Lucky 38, _and_ the Tops like she owned the goddamn place, and managed to pull his strings _just so_ that, in the end, he had _somehow_ resolved to not try to kill her again.

What had he done instead of what he _should have_ done? What any _sane_ man would have done? He'd left her while it was still dark out, wrapped up in _his_ blankets, in _his_ room, in _his_ casino, unharmed and intact. He'd even left her a damn note, like he was obligated to give her some sort of explanation for when she woke up alone. He had been ready to return to her, to actually _deal_ with her as a business partner of sorts, once he had done whatever needed to be done at the Fort.

He still doesn't even know her name, and yet she had gotten him on her side, more or less. Benny thinks that he hates that the most.

At the forefront of his mind is the conclusion that this – being caught and tortured and now held prisoner by Caesar him-fucking-self – is all the Courier's fault.

She _should have_ died on that ugly night, over two months ago. If she had just died like she was supposed to, Benny would never have had his hand forced, and he wouldn't have been so careless in his infiltration of the Fort. If she had died on that night, he would have been able to truly bask in the pride and satisfaction his successful heist, would have been able to think more carefully about how he was to approach the next step of his master plan. If she had just fucking _died_ , he wouldn't be in this goddamn _mess_.

Benny tells himself this because, ultimately, it makes him feel better. Just a little bit. There's a particular sort of comfort to be had when one can place the blame entirely on someone else, and he has never been one to deny himself comfort of any sort.

In the back of his mind, however, lays his stupid, pestering, irritating sense of… _rationality_. It lingers there, relentlessly reminding him that he _knows_ he would have just done the same thing, and made the same goddamned mistakes, even if the Courier had never returned to him with her vengeance that came in the form of persuasion.

Only, Benny knows that he probably wouldn't have ended up in the same position; he knows that he's being used as some sort of leverage against (or for?) the Courier, and that she will, in theory, be the one to kill him. He and the platinum chip are like shiny little lures for her, made to entice her into accepting an audience with Caesar himself. Caesar's men have made it so _very_ clear to Benny that he is being spared – for the time being – for that purpose and that purpose alone. He is nothing to them.

And so, all things considered, Benny knows that he would be nothing more than a cooling corpse right now – either in the ground or on a cross – if the Courier had just died like she was supposed to.

In that respect, he's willing to muster up the strength to push away the ugly taunting of his hindsight, along with the overwhelming desire to seek comfort in blaming her for everything when in reality, he has no one to blame for his own misfortune but himself.

Not that he would _ever_ tell her that, of course.

Benny is torn out of his internal reflecting (and sulking) by the sound of the heavy canvas flaps that make up the entrance to Caesar's tent opening abruptly. A young legionary runs in, slightly out of breath and red in the face from sprinting to deliver whatever report he had to give to Caesar. Something important, if he felt the need to run the whole way. He halts halfway to Caesar's throne, giving a small respectful bow to his waiting leader.

"Lord Caesar," the legionary huffs out. "She is here."

That's all Benny needs to hear, really. His waiting game is over.

Apparently, that's all that Caesar needs to hear, as well. The man's lips curl into a pleased smile as he nods to the legionary, bidding him to leave. Caesar straightens up and leans back into his ornate throne, radiating a smug sort of power that Benny is all toofamiliar with. Lucius and Vulpes – Benny's personal tormentor and the guy who gives him the creeps, respectively – stand at stricter attention, expressions smoothing over into hardened looks as they wait for their guest to arrive.

Benny watches this, as best as he can with one swollen eye, and can't help but be somewhat intrigued; this sort of deliberate presentation isn't something he's seen much in his short time at the Fort. It makes him wonder, not for the first time, what makes the Courier so _fucking_ special that Caesar would feel the need to further project the power he holds.

Of course, it could also just be that Caesar is a huge fucking ham. Benny doesn't rule this possibility out.

It isn't long before the tent opens again, with gentle ease this time, and whatever murmuring there had been falls immediately with a silent hush as the guards all look to the new guest with interest. It occurs to Benny that they're probably not used to the sight of a woman being allowed in without sporting a slave's collar.

She finally comes into view for Benny, and he can't help but grin slightly. The woman is every bit the Courier he left behind and then some. It seems that every time he leaves her in the dust, she emerges as an even more cunning, strengthened woman.

It pisses him off, just a little bit.

At least, that's how she presents herself as she confidently strides to stand before Caesar. Her movements are deliberate, as much as Caesar's, and Benny knows that they're both aiming to establish some sort of understanding in what would otherwise be a game of Power Tug-of-War. They're telling each other through silence, as only predators can, that they will not harm the other – yet – while making it clear how very dominant and in control they are.

Of course, Benny wonders over how much of her right now is a carefully constructed mask. She's in the middle of Caesar's tent, in Caesar's war camp, surrounded by Caesar's heavily-trained soldiers. There is, undoubtedly, some level of fear in her that she's constantly working to keep tucked away. Caesar, on the other hand, has nothing to fear.

It's a weird sight to behold, really.

She doesn't spare Benny a single glance, not even bothering for a tiny peek in her peripheries. It's almost like he isn't even there, like she wouldn't care about his presence one way or another. It's a likely story, one that Benny would be just as willing to believe as anyone else, but he senses that _something_ is amiss in her presentation. For her – and, more importantly, _his_ – sake, Benny hopes that Caesar doesn't pick up on this.

Her eyes are unreadable, though; she simply meets Caesar's gaze with vague disinterest, like she has somewhere else to be, though not without maintaining the right levels of respect to ensure that she doesn't get a collar slapped around her neck right then and there.

"So," Caesar finally begins, voice suggesting as much boredom as the Courier's expression, though he looks upon the young woman with obvious interest, "I finally get to meet the courier who's accomplished so much in so little time. That is why I summoned you here, right?"

The Courier gives him a small nod of acquiescence, along with the barest of polite smiles, but she says nothing.

"I mean, a man nearly kills you," Caesar continues, yet neither of the two acknowledges Benny, "and your response is to track him across the breadth of the Mojave? You arrive on the Strip and waltz into the Lucky 38 like someone left you a key under the doormat? You visit the Tops, and the next thing you know, the head of the Chairmen is fleeing the Strip like a whimpering little pup?"

Benny has to bite his reckless tongue in favor of _not_ getting another beating at the order of Lucius, who has begun to watch him like a hawk. If his arms weren't bound tightly behind him – and he hadn't already had the shit so utterly kicked out of him – Benny would be lodging his fist into Lucius' smug face. Or, he likes to think he would be.

"When you set your mind to something, you get results. I like that," Caesar concludes, now sporting a pleased grin, just for the Courier.

She doesn't expect the praise, or how genuine it sounds; Benny can tell this without even needing to properly see her face. He can also tell because it's not even really what _he_ had been expecting, or what Lucius and a number of observing guards had expected, if the way their faces break their stern form for a brief moment goes to show anything.

Something flashes in Vulpes' eyes for a split second, but no one notices.

Despite the praise, the Courier still says nothing, does nothing, because she's smart enough to know that letting someone go on talking without interruption is the best way to unravel their unguarded purpose. She had done that with Benny, after all.

The sly bitch.

"The question is... are you ready to get started?"

Benny can't imagine what that could mean, but he's sure that it won't be good for him in the end.

"What, exactly, am I starting on?" the Courier asks, all-business. Caesar takes this for what it is: agreement. He grins at her, in a very Caesar way that does not bode well for anyone who isn't on his good side, and launches into his task for her.

Benny isn't all too surprised by what Caesar tells her. He had whatever information he held about House's bunker beneath the weather tower beaten out of him once they made the connection between it and the chip, and he knows that Caesar wants to find out what lies within.

What _does_ surprise Benny is what Caesar tells her next: he wants it all destroyed. Benny can feel his blood go cold when Caesar says that. He panics and starts running through ideas of how he can somehow escape and prevent Caesar's plan from going through – until he hears his name. When he looks up, Caesar is gesturing towards him.

"He knows I'm going to let you decide how he dies," the man is saying. "Maybe you want to remind him."

Benny is, for once, thankful for Caesar's logic; if the Courier talks to him, he'll have the chance to convince her not to blow up the bunker and whatever the hell House has stashed away down there, and maybe even (wishful thinking) set him free. He only hopes that she'll forgive him for lying to her. And, of course, shooting her.

He's still not entirely sure about whether or not she's over that.

The Courier only nods, and then she's rounding on Benny. The look on her face is, naturally, one that he can't read. She's real good at that, he's learning; Benny's always been good at reading people and manipulating them based on what he saw in their eyes, their lips, jaws, hands, clothes, posture, _whatever_ – but she is still proving to be a rather annoying challenge.

Although, here in Caesar's Fort, where he's about to attempt to persuade her to defy Caesar in favor of carrying on with his plan _in front of Caesar_ , he finds himself relying on her ability to throw a mask over her face.

She's standing in front of him, looking down upon his bruised face without a trace of pity. He puts on a smile just for her.

"Pussycat!" he says, ignoring the watchful gazes of literally everyone else in the tent, "Ain't this platinum? Had I known, I woulda baked a cake!" His grin turns cheeky (not that it really shows through how beaten his face is) as he adds, because he has no self-control, "That last turn we took is an 18 karat memory, baby. It's all that's been keeping me warm at night, stuck where I am."

She gives him a smile so small and quick that he's not even sure it was real before, fast as a snake, her arm winds back-

There's an absurdly loud and resounding _SMACK_ , followed by stinging pain and blooming heat in Benny's right cheek. The force of the backhand is enough to send him teetering, and his muscles are too worn and weak to maintain balance as he falls onto his side without an ounce of grace. As he groans slightly, face pressed into dirt, Caesar lets out a sharp, unexpected bark of laughter that makes his uneasy guards look to him in confusion.

"Perfect," is all he says, almost sadistic in his appreciation of the violent display. He turns to Vulpes, who gives him a smile and a nod of agreement before steadying his cold, calculating gaze onto the Courier's back.

"You're a goddamn _fool_ ," the Courier seethes to Benny, and now there is no mask; she is sufficiently pissed off at him. She uncoils herself and stands tall again. "I already know what you want to say, and I don't want to hear a word of it. I have more _important_ things to do right now than deal with you."

With that, she spins on her heel and strides out of the tent with purpose. The guards are all sneering at him, for being manipulated and silenced and _degraded_ by a woman, but he doesn't care. As he haphazardly and painfully pushes himself off of the ground as best he can with his hands tied behind his back, his mind flutters through the possibilities of what could be down in that bunker.

And, more importantly, how it could potentially be _wasted_ because of one woman that he went so _very_ wrong with.

 

* * *

 

A couple more hours of agonizingly waiting on his knees, and the ground is rumbling ominously, dangerously, as though they're experiencing an earthquake. Benny releases a heavy sigh and hangs his head low in defeat; _big rumble_ undoubtedly means _big boom_ , and _big boom_ means _bye-bye bunker_. Bye-bye _everything_.

The guards all talk amongst each other as Caesar murmurs hushed words to Lucius.

Not too long after, the Courier is back. She looks significantly more disheveled – are those singes on her skin and clothes? – than she had the first time she walked into the tent, very obviously out of breath, but she is whole.

 _The same can't be said for whatever was down there_ , Benny thinks angrily.

"I felt the ground shake a while ago. I'll take that as a sign you got the job done," Caesar says, reeling back the satisfaction he's feeling to prevent spoiling the young woman with praise that she hasn't yet earned. He doesn't want it going to her head, after all.

The Courier nods wordlessly, wiping at a large black smudge along her forearm with her thumb.

"There are rewards for doing as I command. Today, your reward is vengeance. You get to decide how Benny dies." Caesar looks straight at Benny for the first time as he says this, eager to be rid of the softened and useless Chairman. "Go to Benny; let him know what you've decided. My Praetorians will perform the execution – unless you want to perform it yourself." It's a question, posed to her only by a quirk of the man's brow.

She tilts her head to Benny, watching him with careful consideration.

"I had some time to think, down there," she says slowly, "about how I want Benny to die."

"I assume you've come to a decision, then, if you're feeling compelled to tell me this," Caesar drawls.

"Yes, I have. I don't know that you'll be inclined to agree with me, though."

"As long as Benny is _killed_ , I don't care what happens to him."

She waits a beat before straightening her posture and turning back to stare Caesar straight in the eyes. "I want to leave him here, just for a little while longer."

" _What_?" The incredulous exclamation comes from both Benny and Caesar's mouths, but Benny is the only one who gets hard kick in the side for it.

Caesar's face hardens over, radiating his displeasure.

"I will not _babysit_ him for you," Caesar growls. "I offer him to you _now_ so you can kill him _now_. This is not a privilege to be taken lightly, especially for an outsider such as _yourself_." He sneers the last word, and suddenly the Courier's stance takes on the air of power and control that she wore when she strode in hours ago.

"You won't be seeing him. Leave him with your trainees, if you must. I don't care. But I want him," she looks at Benny, and though it doesn't show, he can feel the fire of her vengeance from where he kneels, "I want him to know what it felt like, to stare down the barrel of a gun and know that there is _nothing_ that can be done in that moment to prevent death at the careless hands of another. I want him to feel time slow down and drag on and on, to the point where it feels like a minute has become days, and the whole time, the only companion you have is fear of the unknown. I want him to feel this." She stands straighter, prouder, as though she expects no argument in return. "And that is why he will _wait_ for me to return, unknowing of when that will be, living through that agony and uncertainty that he once made me feel. Surely, you will humor a young, wrathful woman?"

A few of the guards snort at the obvious contradiction in her words, but Caesar is fast to hold a hand up to silence his men. Vulpes watches the Courier with a dangerous curiosity that has even Benny worried for her, because he knows that Inculta is probably the _last_ person you want to have an interest in you.

Still, she keeps her unwavering gaze on Caesar, and the two seem to be engaged in some sort of silent, eyes-only conversation that's just a little bit creepy.

Eventually, she merely gives him a small shrug and plays her trump card. "Who else do you have right now that can do what I know you're going to ask me to do?"

At that, Caesar stares at her for only a moment longer before leaning back into his throne, chin resting on his closed fist.

"Very well. I admire your passion. But don't mistake my generosity for anything more than a rare occurrence. I won't be so easily swayed in the future. And you _will_ be expected to complete every job I give you. No excuses."

The Courier's body loses some of its rigidity at Caesar's acceptance. Caesar's men all look upon the two in unrestrained bewilderment, but none of them dare to question his decision in front of their guest. Or at all, really.

Benny doesn't know how to feel; he's a bit numb, knowing that he's going to be left here, at the mercy of Lucius and the eager legionaries and Praetorians, for even longer. The Courier's desired effect begins taking place almost immediately, before he becomes self-aware and squashes that shit down to the best of his ability.

She will _not_ break him.

"Let's press on, shall we? You clearly know what needs to be done." He waits for her confirmation, which comes in the form of yet another small nod, before he continues, "You have an interest in his death, too. If he knows that you destroyed his gadgets beneath the Fort, he will strike back and try to stop you from doing anything else." The name doesn't need to be said in order for Benny to understand. It's a clear tactic of manipulation, to make the Courier realize that she has no other choice but to comply with Caesar's commands. Whether it truly works is lost on them, but her small acknowledgements are enough for Caesar. "You know where to find him. How he dies, I leave up to you. And none of this ' _leaving him guessing'_ bullshit, not with him. The sooner this is done, the better. Are we clear?"

"Yes. It'll probably take some time to actually _find_ him in the tower, build up an offensive for whatever complex systems he undoubtedly has defending him, _and_ to gain access… but I'm certain that I'll be able to get it done for you."

Benny almost can't believe what he's hearing; she had never seemed inclined to help the Legion in the hours he'd actually spent getting to know her. But, he supposes bitterly, it was probably all just a part of that infallible mask she wore, made to deceive. He thinks of Yes Man, and sincerely hopes that nothing bad happens to him now that she's fucked over the whole plan. He hopes that maybe she'll spare the robot in her apparent desire for destruction.

"Good. Then we have nothing more to discuss until then."

 

* * *

 

As soon as she leaves, the murmuring begins again, the sneering and the derisive comments about her and the wagers over who would be able to completely subdue the proud woman in the shortest amount of time. Brutal, filthy words about her are exchanged, words that Caesar doesn't bother to stop now that she's not there to take offense.

Benny doesn't care. He has nothing more to do but wait for her to come back, with news of House's death or news of his own, whichever comes first.

"Your life is hanging by a lone thread, Benny."

His name attracts his attention, but the voice is what gets his head to snap up. Caesar is observing him carefully for the first time since he was captured; his expression is one of muted contempt with a side of dark pleasure at seeing the man more broken now than any of the beatings had left him.

"That girl and I, we're the twin blades on a pair of scissors, testing the strength of that thread. At some point, when you're not looking, one of the blades is going to come down. I almost want to say you should hope that it's mine. I can't imagine what she has planned for you." He gives a joyless laugh at his own humor, before waving a hand in Benny's direction.

"Get him out of my sight."

As he's hauled up onto his feet and nearly dragged outside and back to the tent they'd been primarily keeping him all this time, Benny loses himself in his thoughts again in an effort to get away from the burning, stinging, throbbing pain coming from all over his tired and weakened body.

His first thought, of course, is one of comfort. He should have made sure that little _fucking_ Courier had really died like she was supposed to on that night, so many weeks ago. Then, things would have been normal.

Maybe the game really _had_ been rigged from the start, Benny thinks bitterly, hearing his own words being thrown back in his face. It had just been in the favor of another player, a wild card, lingering in the shadows where no one else thought to look. He knows better, now that it's too late. The wheel is already spinning, the ball rolling, and no one really knows where it'll land, whose fate will be favored next.

Benny thinks he has an idea.

But, after all, hindsight is 20/20.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really looking forward to getting this story going, but for now, the first chapter will have to suffice. I don't know when I'll be updating again - I currently have up to chapter 8 written out, but I want to make sure the whole thing will flow well, so I want to have more done before I actually post anything. This is going to be a LONG one, and as such, it's going to take a LONG time before it starts updating again. All I can ask is that you subscribe and sit tight in the meantime.
> 
> ALSO, if you'd like to see what happened between Benny and the Courier before this, hit up my fic _Dynamics_!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
